Hallelujah
by ameliagianna
Summary: Early Season-5. Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley.


As he sits in the kitchen of their 'borrowed' apartment, Connor listens to the _snip-snip-snip_ of the scissors at his ear.

"Not too much, okay?" he asks quietly.

He can sense Abby rolling her eyes at him, but she murmurs back, "Okay."

His patience is tried as Abby continues to maneuver around his head, slowing trimming his twelve months' worth of outgrown hair.

She finally comes face to face with him, lifting the scissors to the front of his hair. He watches her, her intense concentration and the thoughts that pass behind her eyes and the way the bites at the side of her bottom lip.

"Abby," he murmurs.

"Done," she declares.

He repeats himself, "Abby."

She meets his gaze.

"Are you okay?"

"Connor…" She looks away from him, pushing her longer hair out of her face and dropping the scissors to the tabletop.

He reaches out, closes his hands around hers. "Please."

She sighs, crouches down in front of him. "Honestly…no."

He doesn't ask why. At least, not aloud; he does it with his eyes.

"I thought we were trapped forever," she whispers, on the verge of tears. "That we'd be there for the rest of our lives, alone."

"We had each other," he tells her.

"But what happened if we suddenly didn't? What then?" she asks him. "If you were killed, was I just supposed to live on, fighting for my life?"

"Yes."

"Exactly," she throws back.

Connor's head drops. She drops hers to his.

"I wasn't prepared to lose you, Connor. I'm still not. And really…"

He looks up.

"I don't think I ever will be," she finishes. "I love you."

He smiles, pulls her into his lap. "I love you, too, Abby. I always did."

She laughs, leaning into his broadened chest. "I know."

"So," he teases, "your turn?"

She barks another laugh. "Oh, God, no. I'm not letting you anywhere near me with those scissors."

_Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof_

_You saw her bathing on the roof_

_Her beauty in the moonlight, oh, that threw you._

_And she tied you to her kitchen chair_

_And she broke your throne and she cut your hair_

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!_

* * *

"Connor," Abby asks from next to him, "do you remember our first night in the Cretaceous?"

He shifts closer to her in the bed. "Of course."

She fiddles with the necklace that falls over his bare chest. "You asked to move back in to the flat."

"And you said yes," he sighs. "What's on your mind?"

She pauses. "It took being trapped in the past for nearly a year for me to finally admit I had feelings for you."

Connor's quiet.

"When, really, I think I've had them all along."

"Really?" he asks quietly.

She turns her head to look up at him. "Yeah," she whispers. "Living with you was the best mistake I've ever made."

Connor laughs, and Abby cuts him off with a kiss.

"We can't ever go back to how it was before, you know that?" she asks. "Too much has changed."

He sighs. "I know."

"Are you scared?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know," she murmurs.

"I am, yeah. I'm scared of what will happen to us, what has happened to the ARC, to our team," he tells her. "They're not really our team, anymore."

"But they could be," Abby says. "Some of them still are. Becker, Lester…"

"But what about Sarah? And Danny? And Jenny and Stephen and…Cutter, they're all gone."

Abby sighs, drops her head to Connor's chest. "I know."

He pulls his arms in tight around her and closes his eyes.

"We'll figure it out," she whispers, placing a kiss over his heart. "Together."

"Together," he repeats.

_Well, baby, I've been here before_

_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_

_You know, I used to live alone before I knew you._

_But I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

_And love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!_

* * *

"Look, Abby," he murmurs excitedly, walking into the room. "A real bed."

She walks up behind him and takes in the scene.

A _bedroom_.

_Theirs_, at least for the night.

"God," she sighs. "It's been a whole year."

"Hardly seems real, does it?" The joy is gone from his voice, and cold, hard reality seeps in.

"But it was," she insists. "It _was_. Now, we're home."

"Home," he repeats. "It feels…_different_."

She sighs again and enters the room, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "It is, even if it's just a little. A whole year has passed here, Connor, and we're the ones who have to catch up."

"But we can do it," he states, eyes firm on her. "Together."

"Together," she agrees with a smile.

Then they're both moving, meeting in the middle, bodies crashing against each other and lips desperately seeking out the other.

"Shall we…" she whispers, between kisses, "uh, try out the bed?"

Connor chuckles. "I thought you'd never ask."

_Well, there was a time when you let me know_

_What's really going on below_

_But now you never show that to me, do you?_

_But remember when I moved in you_

_And the holy dove was moving too_

_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah!_

* * *

"Connor?" Abby asks.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think there's a God?"

His eyes widen for a moment. "Uh…" He looks into the fire. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"Do you think He can see us here?" She picks at a nail, bitten to the quick.

"Yeah, I do," he sighs, watching her.

"Why?" she asks. "Why would He be watching us here?"

"Why wouldn't He?"

She shrugs. "It certainly doesn't seem like He's watching, unless he's got a sick sense of humor."

Connor laughs, but Abby glares and he awkwardly stops.

He clears his throat. "Well, I think He is. Because we're still alive, aren't we?"

"I suppose."

"And we're together," he adds. "That's all I could ever ask for."

An interrupting cry rings out somewhere behind them, and they both turn toward it.

"Did you hear that?" she whispers.

"What was that?" he asks, hushed.

"Don't know," she whispers. "But it sounded far enough away that we'll be fine, for now."

Connor straightens his back. "I'll take first watch," he volunteers automatically.

Abby looks up at him.

She stands and walks over to where he's sitting. She bends down, tilting his face up with his chin, and she presses her lips to his. "Me, too," she whispers.

She sits down again, next to him, and drops her head to his shoulder.

He cautiously lays a hand over hers on top of her knee, and she weaves their fingers together. "Hey," he says quietly, "we've only been out here for, what, a month or two?"—_47 days_, they both think—"We'll figure it out."_ Together._

"Yeah," she whispers.

_Well, maybe there's a God above_

_But all I've ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you._

_And it's not a cry that you hear at night_

_It's not somebody who's seen the light_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!_

_-Jeff Buckley, 'Hallelujah'._

* * *

**A/N: Conby! The fact that Hannah and Andrew are dating in real life (at least, that's what I hear) makes everything better. I miss this show. Sucks that it's over, now. Review?**


End file.
